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Updated: June 13, 2025
On the floor on the south side of the nave by one of the piers is a slab to the memory of a maker of gravestones, worded in this quaint fashion: 'Here Lyes ye Body of poor Frank Raw Parish Clark and Gravestone Cutter And ys is writt to let yw know: Wht Frank for Othrs us'd to do Is now for Frank done by Another. Buried March ye 31, 1706.
There was a silence for a moment, and then a parley ensued between two voices, one of which was that of a woman. It was not in English, but in a deep guttural tongue. ‘Peth yw hono sydd yn gorwedd yna ar y ddaear?’ said a masculine voice. ‘Yn wirionedd—I do not know what it can be,’ said the female voice, in the same tongue. ‘Here is a cart, and there are tools; but what is that on the ground?’
"Peth yw y matter?" said John Jones. "Y matter, y matter!" said the postman in a tone of exultation, "Sebastopol wedi cymmeryd. Hurrah!" "What does he say?" said my wife anxiously to me. "Why, that Sebastopol is taken," said I.
"Don't crow quite yet, old chap," thought I to myself, and putting my hand into my pocket, I took out a penny, and offering it to the child said: "Now, small man, Peth yw y enw y lle hwn?" Instantly the boy's face became intelligent, and putting out a fat little hand, he took the ceiniog and said in an audible whisper, "Waen y Bwlch."
I crossed it, and was advancing along the road which led apparently to the south-east, when I came to a company of people who seemed to be loitering about. It consisted entirely of young men and women, the former with crimson favours, the latter in the garb of old Wales, blue tunics and sharp crowned hats. Going up to one of the young women, I said, "Petti yw? what's the matter!"
It was not in English, but in a deep guttural tongue. "Peth yw hono sydd yn gorwedd yna ar y ddaear?" said a masculine voice. "Yn wirionedd I do not know what it can be," said the female voice, in the same tongue. "Here is a cart, and there are tools; but what is that on the ground?" "Something moves beneath it; and what was that a groan?" "Shall I get down?"
I will kneel down'; and he flung himself on the ground, and placed his ear close to my mouth. 'Now speak if you can. Hey! what! no, sure, God forbid! then starting up, he cried to a female who sat in the cart, anxiously looking on 'Gwenwyn! gwenwyn! yw y gwas wedi ei gwenwynaw. The oil! Winifred, the oil!
It was not in English, but in a deep guttural tongue. 'Peth yw hono sydd yn gorwedd yna ar y ddaear? said a masculine voice. 'Yn wirionedd I do not know what it can be, said the female voice, in the same tongue. 'Here is a cart, and there are tools; but what is that on the ground? 'Something moves beneath it; and what was that a groan? 'Shall I get down?
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